The Emigrant's Way O'er The Western Desert

It Is True, That It Is Not At All Necessary To Love Many Books, In Order To Love Them Much.

Silence And Solitude, The Soul's Best Friends.

Art Is The Child Of Nature In Whom We Trace The Features Of The Mothers Face.

Chill Air And Wintry Winds! My Ear Has Grown Familiar With Your Song; I Hear It In The Opening Year, I Listen, And It Cheers Me Long.

Tomorrow Is The Mysterious, Unknown Guest.